


Being You

by violetpeche



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Cis Male Johnny, Eventual Romance, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Inspired by Twitter, M/M, Misgendering, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Doyoung, deadnaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetpeche/pseuds/violetpeche
Summary: The first time Johnny metDoyoung, it was inside a tiny cafe in Hongdae where Johnny’s knees were constantly knocking at the tops of tables and tipping them over. He felt like Alice, too big for his surroundings.They’d been exchanging stilted texts between them for the past three weeks since their awkward dinner with his mother, and the only common denominator they’d managed to find between them aside from chatting about grad school programs was a mutual love for coffee.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 114
Kudos: 241





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [做回自己](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617781) by [violetpeche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetpeche/pseuds/violetpeche)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny meets Doyoung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I've decided to turn this precious idea into an actual fic for Ao3. What initially started out as a ranty thread of ideas on Twitter back in March devolved into a [pseudo-Twitter AU](https://twitter.com/johntographique/status/1241650293772709888) that started to have a life of its own. 
> 
> This story is inspired by a post that went viral on Reddit in late March 2020 in which a gay, cis-gendered male was asking for relationship advice on how to ask his partner out on a date. The twist was: his marriage was (for the most part) arranged and happened out of convenience, _and_ his partner is a trans-male. Over time he got to know his husband and started to develop feelings for him, despite them having a cordial relationship.
> 
> Things to know going in: Doyoung is a trans-male character, and Johnny is cis-male. 
> 
> I have to disclose I was unsure if I could take on such a story, but I have been wanting to write something lighthearted for a while now.

The first time Johnny met Doyoung, he was slouched over in a highback chair next to his mother in an Italian restaurant. He was introduced to him as “ _my daughter, Doyeon_ ” as Doyoung gave a pleasant smile and brushed a long strand of silky black hair behind his ear. Johnny watched him top up his glass of wine with more red before taking three large gulps. His broad, sloped shoulders were wrapped in a banana yellow cotton sundress with white daisies printed all over it, and his oversized Clubmaster frames kept slipping down the edge of his nose the entire evening.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Doyoung’s mother leaned across the table to ask Johnny as soon as Doyoung had excused himself to use the restroom.

The question made the pile of stones in Johnny’s stomach plummet through his chair; he had an inkling about the purpose of this dinner when his parents asked him to meet with an old family friend while he was in Korea for the summer. Nevertheless, he was still caught off guard to have his suspicions confirmed.

“She is,” Johnny said as he dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He folded it back onto his lap and spooned another mouthful of ribollita. He let the sweet, ripened tomato sauce and chuck of potato melt on his tongue before chewing it down.

“I think you should get to know her while you’re here. She’s _very_ smart, too. She’s just graduated from Yonsei University.” She paused.

Johnny raised his eyebrows; his mother had told him once it was one of the most prestigious universities in Korea. “Oh, wow. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice dripping with pride. “Doyeon now wants to obtain her graduate degree.”

“That’s nice.” Johnny shifted in his seat; he felt more awkward by the second speaking about someone who wasn’t present.

“You’re very smart, too, John. You’ve gone to graduate school, haven’t you?”

“Uh, yes. Yes, I have—just finished.”

“Your mother has told me about your time at Princeton.” She looked down at her risotto for a moment but raised her hand to take a sip from her wine glass instead. The charms on her bracelet clattered against each other. “Perhaps you could talk to my Doyeon about it. She has expressed wanting to attend a prestigious program in America.”

A part of Johnny considered it was more _her_ idea than anything, likely from years of conversations with his mother about how well Johnny was doing through his own studies. He _was_ awarded by his parents with an entire summer abroad after finishing up law school. Johnny had it pretty well back at home, including his own apartment and a starting position at his mother’s firm in Chicago as soon as he passed the bar exam.

Johnny spooned down a nervous mouthful of ribollita, the kale overwhelming and bitter this bite more than the last and nodded his head. “Sure. I could do that.”

The conversation was spared from another awkward pause by the arrival of the waiter to take their next round of plates to order. Doyoung returned from the toilets and pulled his chair out to sit next to her.

“I miss anything good?” Doyoung asked. 

“Doyeon—give Johnny your mobile phone number.”

Doyoung’s mouth fell open and he stared at his mother in shock. “Excuse me?”

His mother waved her hand in Johnny’s direction. “Doyeon, _please_ give Johnny your information so you can talk about graduate school.”

Johnny swallowed down a long gulp of wine, draining the rest of his glass as he watched Doyoung’s face turn red.

.

The first time Johnny met _Doyoung_ , it was inside a tiny cafe in Hongdae where Johnny’s knees were constantly knocking at the tops of tables and tipping them over. He felt like Alice, too big for his surroundings. 

They’d been exchanging stilted texts between them for the past three weeks since their awkward dinner with his mother, and the only common denominator they’d managed to find between them aside from chatting about grad school programs was a mutual love for coffee.

The bell at the top of the door chimed when Johnny looked up from his seat and he gave a small wave. Doyoung smiled as he waltzed into the cafe, fashionably early by a cool five minutes.

He emerged from the drink line with a coffee and a slice of cheesecake in his hands, drowning in an oversized button-up t-shirt and the faintest pink at the apples of his cheeks. His hair was pulled away from his face into a neat bun at the top of his head.

Johnny had greeted Doyoung as Doyeon, and after several awkward seconds, Doyoung placed the coffee cradled in his hands onto the wobbly, wooden table between them and said:

“Listen, Johnny. The only people left in my life that call me Doyeon are my parents and their friends.”

Johnny nodded slowly and watched Doyoung pick at the cuticles of his left hand.

“Okay—what would you like me to call you then?”

Doyoung cleared his throat and took another sip of his coffee. “I go by Doyoung.”

The ice rattled in his hand as he set it back down on the table.

“Doyoung,” Johnny said, testing the name out on his tongue. “Alright, Doyoung.”

Doyoung folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the slice of cheesecake between them. They had given him two forks; Johnny had no intention to eat any of it, and he suspected Doyoung had no intention to share it with him.

“I’m—” Doyoung started again but paused to clear his throat. His eyes looked glazed over. “I’m… a man.”

His voice had turned soft, delicate, into a half-whisper.

Johnny nodded his head—the cafe suddenly felt quiet. The mid-afternoon rush had died down, the machines stopped grinding new beans, and the baristas behind the counter stood by the sink to chatter between themselves.

“I mean, well—oh, fuck! Sorry—I, I just wanted to tell you now before things got any more different between us.” He was floundering as his face started to turn scarlet. Johnny resisted the urge to offer a hand across the table. “You know my mother—she’s _persistent_. Every day she asks me if I’ve talked to you, and what we talked about, and like,” he paused to let out a wheeze, “she tells me you’d make a great _son-in-law_ —”

“I’m gay,” Johnny blurted out. He sucked in a quick breath, shocked by his own confession.

Doyoung stared back, brows raised and mouth hanging open. He threw a hand over it to stifle a chuckle. The sound startled Johnny and he immediately felt his knee start to bounce as he wiped a clammy hand against his thigh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Doyoung said between hiccuped laughs. 

“Uhm, I—no.” Johnny pressed his lips in a line to contain himself. 

It didn’t last long; Doyoung threw his head and shoulders back and let his laughter roll through him. It was infectious, loud, and Johnny couldn’t help but give in to the joy and relief of their honesty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny makes a proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the overwhelming positive response to the first chapter! This story is so dear to me, and I really want to do it justice. It's a balancing act of not overthinking and also letting the story happen.
> 
> As said in the previous chapter, tags might get updating throughout. I strongly encourage readers, especially those who identify as trans/non-binary/agender, to come forward with any appropriate themes I should tag this fic. 
> 
> Thanks for the support. Please enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: Warning for use of Doyoung's deadname in this chapter. I've now added the tag to this fic. A thank you to my dear **halbermarco** for pointing this out.

For the next two months, Johnny spent most of his time in Seoul with Doyoung.

Doyoung had a lot of spare time on his hands—he worked mostly odd hours as a private courier, designing products for his stationery line (which Johnny found both sleek and cute), or helped wait tables at his aunt’s restaurant. But Johnny eventually learned what Doyoung _actually_ wanted to do when it came up during one of their weekly dinners.

“I want to be a landscape architect,” Doyoung said between bites of his meal. He picked up a mouthful of kimchi from the dish in front of him. He set his chopsticks down and pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose.

“Oh?” Johnny finished mixing the last bits of gochujang into his bibimbap, steam rising from the hot stone in thick plumes. His mouth watered as he watched the crunchier grains of rice from the bottom of the hot stone mingle with the broken yolk and spinach.

He picked up his spoon to shovel a generous bite into his mouth. As soon as he closed his mouth around the food, he yelped and pulled the spoon from his mouth. He couldn’t speak around the food, molten hot on his tongue. His eyes welled up, all through generous bits of sweet bulgogi beef he could taste that didn’t burn the rest of his tastebuds off, as he loudly chewed the steam out of his mouth. He was too embarrassed to spit his food back out.

“Oh my god—” Doyoung said. He picked up the water jug off the edge of the table to pour more into Johnny’s glass and handed it to him. “You okay?”

Johnny let out a few more huffs of air, willing the sting to go away, before accepting the glass with a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Johnny said after a long sip of water. He dabbed the tears from the corner of his eyes with his crumpled napkin. The side of his tongue felt a blister begin to swell on the roof of his mouth.

Doyoung cocked his head to the side and threw a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. 

“I swear, I’m fine.” Johnny gulped down another sip of water. “It’s just my _spoon_ was encased in lava.”

Doyoung clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “You’re _so_ dramatic.”

“Am not!” Johnny insisted.

“If you didn’t leave your spoon against the hot stone—” Doyoung picked up his chopsticks once again to poke around his small dish of soybeans. The corner of his mouth curled into a shy smile.

Johnny liked Doyoung’s sense of humor—he’d found it refreshing. He’d teased Doyoung for far less, and it was always a good laugh between them.

“Look at me,” Johnny gestured in mock surprise. “I’m a hungry, growing boy!”

“Pssh!”

“ _Anyway_.” Johnny waved his hand as he scooped up a fresh bite from the bowl. This time he blew on the mouthful and let it cool before putting it anywhere near his lips. He kept it hovering in front of his mouth, a tangy waft of gochujang swirling up his nose. He could feel the steam from the rice wet his upper lip. “Landscape architect?”

Doyoung continued the conversation, explaining his interest in studying gardens and public parks from across the world—his favorite garden being Sacro Bosco in Bomarzo, Italy. He graduated from university with an engineering degree, the only compromise he could agree to with his parents who kept pushing him to go into the medical field. They always wanted him to be a doctor, but not only was it uninteresting to Doyoung, but he found the profession unreasonably and intentionally stressful. 

“Honestly, doctors are saints,” Doyoung said as he reached for the dish of gochujang. “Anyone willing to go through a decade or more of putting themselves through hell and onto the brink of death, they deserve all the praise. But that entire process is not for me.”

While Johnny hadn’t attended medical school, he did go to law school—and countless nights bled into mornings, where the hours were measured by the cans of energy drinks scattered across his table as he parsed through mountains of legal cases and manuals. Most days he did hate himself, or the corner of the table that got in the way of his foot, as he’d try and pass through it with only a wink of sleep.

“The going through it part sucks,” Johnny admitted. “But the end result? When you finish?” He scraped at the rice at the bottom of the hot stone so it wouldn’t stick to it again. “All worth it in the end.” 

He looked up at Doyoung and caught his staring straight at him. His eyes had turned soft in concentration. In the short time he had known Doyoung, he learned he was an attentive listener. At first, he figured he was trying to absorb as much information as possible to relay back to his mother, but he quickly discovered Doyoung was _always_ soaking in everything around him. 

“At least law school was was for me,” Johnny said.

Doyoung stirred his spoon around in his bowl again and picked at a mushroom. He appeared to be lost in thought. “I guess you’re just that kind of person.”

“A what? A big masochist?” Johnny joked.

Doyoung smiled and proper his elbow onto the table to place a hand under his chin. “I’d imagine you’d kind of have to be.” 

Johnny licked his lips and cleared his throat. “Well, I actually wanted to be a lawyer—why do you like gardens?”

They finished up their meal as Johnny picked Doyoung’s brains over his favorite gardens he’d visited in Korea, and ones he’d studied on his own that he’d like to visit one day. Johnny told him about the rose garden in Grant Park back at home, and all the other lakefront spaces that he liked to visit in the summer.

Johnny insisted on picking up the bill, but Doyoung scolded him into allowing him to pay this time.

“Nononononono—” Doyoung said with a scowl and swatting away Johnny’s hand. “You got the last three meals. Let me get this!” He hip-checked Johnny away from the receipt as he spread his elbows out to block Johnny from the counter. 

Johnny tapped on his shoulder and Doyoung whipped around with his eyes ablaze and pointer finger raised. “No.”

Johnny felt his cheeks burn as he pulled his hand away. It shocked him to see Doyoung go nearly red in the face with his insistence, but turn soft and sweet as he swiped his card for the host.

“Fine,” Johnny said as Doyoung slipped his card back into his wallet. “Then the drinks are on me tonight.”

.

They didn’t end up at a bar, or a nightclub, but rather inside a small room in an indiscernible corner of Hongdae. They ducked into a small alley to enjoy some noraebang in the evening while it was still young, before the bravest singers crawled their way out of the nightclubs to sing their hearts out. 

As promised, Johnny ordered beers, and an extra bottle of water for Doyoung, and sunk into the booth next to Doyoung as they flipped through the songbook shoulder-to-shoulder. The lights turned from a gradient pink to blue against the walls, bleeding into each other as Johnny squinted his way down the list.

Doyoung grabbed the pad to plug in the codes for three songs, more than likely he knew off the bat he knew off the top of his head and grabbed a microphone.

“Mind if I go first?” he asked Johnny, head tilting to the side.

Johnny studied his face for a moment—he looked excited, could see his shoulder bounce along with his knee under the table. “Go for it,” Johnny gestured toward the screen. 

The opening notes to a ballad started and it took Johnny by surprise. He didn’t expect Doyoung to open the night with a slow song he’d barely remembered his parents play around the house when he was growing up. 

Singing looked good on Doyoung. It was fascinating to watch, how the notes flowed out of him, like a stream of water, without resistance. 

It was the way Doyoung closed his eyes to high the higher notes, with a hand splayed across his abdomen and pulling at the loose cotton of his tee. He sang with such passion, such fervor, and heartache through each ballad. Johnny watched the colorful disco lights dance across Doyoung’s face, the sweat gathering at his temples as his hair slipped out of the tie and onto the back of his neck.

As Doyoung rounded out as the last notes of his song whirred through the speakers, Johnny cracked open a fresh bottle of chilled soju and poured out glasses for them to share. 

“Holy shit,” Johnny said as he handed a glass to Doyoung. “You’re really good.”

Doyoung smiled as he looked down at the floor, shoulders rounded as he tried to look away. “Thanks,” he said, voice sounding small.

“Come on,” Johnny tapped his elbow. “Drink with me.”

Doyoung grabbed the pad first to pause the queue of songs, then turned his attention back to Johnny. “What’re we celebrating?”

“Your extremely talented singing voice.” Johnny held up the glass higher.

Doyoung narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. It was hard to get a full read on his expression as the rainbow of lights swirled over his face.

“Why are you always like this?” he scoffed.

“Like what?” Johnny asked, head cocked to the side.

Doyoung lunged forward for the soju. His slender fingers brushed against Johnny’s as he accepted the glass and tapped it against the lip of Johnny’s before throwing it back. 

Johnny followed his lead and downed his glass. He let out a small hiss as he pinched his eyes closed.

“Are you aware you’re like, _amazing_ ,” Johnny stressed.

“I’m Korean,” Doyoung shrugged. A stray strand of black hair fell out of Doyoung’s messy bun and fell over his face, and Johnny resisted the urge to tuck it behind his ear. “Everyone’s good at singing.”

The muffled echoes of the other rooms surrounding them bled through the walls. Just as the awkward silence lulled between them, there was a voice straining to sing an Ailee song.

Johnny burst out laughing and poured out more soju. “You sure about that?”

Doyoung burst out into a loud, wheezy chuckle. He laughed with his full body, throwing himself back into the booth with an empty soju glass in one hand. Johnny couldn’t help but laugh with his whole chest in tandem—Doyoung’s was infectious.

“But, like, I’d buy your albums!” Johnny yelped.

Doyoung threw his head and shoulders back. “I’m not meant to be an entertainer,” he said as he waved a hand to shoo Johnny away. He picked up the mic again and recited in a sing-song voice: “I’m my mommy’s baby doll,” his voice echoed out of the speakers. “And I was supposed to be a doctor, and I’m supposed to be on my first kid—!”

“First kid?!” Johnny yelped. He nearly coughed his soju and beer back up.

“Yeah—she always tells me, ‘Doyeon-ah, you’re not getting any younger!’” Doyoung put his hands on his hips as he sunk into the role of his mother. His voice nagged, words dripping high and nasally. “‘When are you going to get married? You are twenty-six years old. If you can’t get a job, at least get a boyfriend.’”

Doyoung plopped down onto the seat next to Johnny. He pulled his glasses off and tossed them onto the table and used the other hand to rub at his eyes.

Johnny felt his heart pang in his chest—and it wasn’t fully pity, but maybe it was. Doyoung was easily the most easy-going person he’d been around in years, even despite all of the ways his life worked against him. But now, with Doyoung slumped forward with his elbows on the tops of his thighs and head between his legs, Johnny wished the night hadn’t turned in the direction it had gone.

“Hey now,” Johnny started. He inched closer to Doyoung and brought his arm up to wrap around Doyoung’s shoulder, but stopped himself and hovered over his back for a quick second. “Uh—Doyoung?”

“It’s fine,” Doyoung said just as the party next door roared through a noisy trot tune. Doyoung turned his head to look up at Johnny. He could see the start of tears collecting in his eyes as he tried to not blink.

“You sure?” Johnny asked. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nah.” Doyoung sat up straight and wiped his unfallen tears with the corner of his shirt sleeve. “We didn’t pay 30,000 won for honesty hour.”

Doyoung cleared his throat and swiped a microphone off the table. He tossed it into Johnny’s lap then reached for his beer to take a long swig. The weight of the mic surprised Johnny and he nearly jumped out of his skin as the bass from a room over rattled through the door. 

“Your turn to shine,” Doyoung said with a weak smile. He reached a hand to the back of his neck “Honestly, let’s forget about it.”

Johnny wrapped his hand around the mic and licked his lips as Doyoung grabbed the pad to resume the song queue.

“ _Please_ ,” Doyoung pleaded as the tinny opening notes of an upbeat song. 

Johnny could recognize it, just barely, but his mind was blurring in and out of focus as he stared up at Doyoung from his seat. He only had a few weeks left in Seoul, but he’d learned a lot about Doyoung—more than he’d learned about some of the people he met along the way through law school. He liked spending time with Doyoung. He was far more intelligent than he gave himself credit for, passionate about his interests, and was as open-minded as he was opinionated.

Johnny stood up with his mic in hand and hovered it in front of his lips. He had missed half of the opening verse. 

“Go on!” Doyoung shouted. “Show me what you got!”

In a moment where Johnny’s mouth worked faster than his mind, he opened his mouth to start reciting the lyrics on the screen, but instead heard himself say:

“How would you feel if we got married?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny makes a proposal— _again_. 
> 
> For real this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thank you so much for your support and interest. I still can't believe the response to this story! I've had to take extra care with this next chapter as the subject matter is crucial for me to feel like I've gotten it right. Posting this 3rd chapter has taken much longer than expected because of that, but I'm hoping now that this roadblock has been crossed, we're in smooth sailing to now have somewhat regular updates here on out. Hopefully, this being a longer chapter will make up for the wait :)
> 
> As always: tags might get updated throughout. Please pay attention to that. I strongly encourage readers, especially/particularly those who identify as trans/non-binary/agender, to come forward with any appropriate themes I should tag this fic.
> 
> Thanks for the support. Please enjoy!
> 
> **Chapter warnings** : This chapter gets very serious, and there is an instance where Johnny's shortcomings can be interpreted as transphobia. I could really use some help on how to properly tag this and would appreciate feedback in the comments or a message on my Twitter/Curious Cat.

The proverbial record scratch cut through with the deafening sound of silence between his mouth and the microphone, contrasting with the explosive burst of the tinny chorus that swirled around their comfortably small room. The noises were so loud that the singing voices that leaked in through the walls started to sound like a nest of chatty mice at a Taeyeon concert. Johnny’s eyes were so wide, he could feel the sting as he watched the rainbow disco lights painted across Doyoung’s pale face, from pink to red, to blue, to purple, and green, and back again. Johnny felt his hand grip around his mic tighter, and his knuckles ached as he tried to maintain his composure.

Doyoung, on the other hand, stood across from him with both hands around the control pad, his shoulders bunched to his ears, and his jaw opened half-way to the floor.

“What did you just say?” Doyoung asked. He narrowed his eyes as he pulled the control pad close to his chest.

Johnny took a second to process the words that spilled out of his mouth just a second before the last bits of the chorus petered out and back into the next verse.

“I think I just asked you to marry me?” Johnny said.

Doyoung burst out into laughter, loud and rolling through his body that made Johnny feel warm with embarrassment as he started to drown in the realization of what he’d proposed.

“You—you’re joking, right?” Doyoung asked, sounding flustered.

Johnny licked his lips as he lowered the mic to his side. “I—can you hear me out for a second?”

Doyoung kept laughing, _ha ha ha_ , the sound thin beneath the noise coursing through the room. Johnny resisted the urge to laugh along with him to ease the tension that started to build between them. He hated this feeling of unease that gnawed at the back of his neck, but he kept his composure.

“I—listen!” Johnny shouted over the music. He shifted on his feet for a moment before grounding himself to the floor.

All of the giddiness from the bottles of soju and beer throughout the night evaporated the instant he started to realize he needed to focus on how serious this conversation was about to turn. He couldn’t indulge in the lightweight, candyfloss feeling that usually coated his brain.

Doyoung huddled the controller curled against his chest with a vise grip, zero intention to pause the music. 

Johnny clicked his tongue. “You and me getting married makes the most sense!”

“But it doesn’t!” Doyoung shouted back. Despite the room drenched in the instrumental strings and horns, Johnny could hear Doyoung’s usually soft voice loud and clear. 

“Can you—?” Johnny pointed at the controller, motioning him to pause the music, and tapped Doyoung’s elbow. “Let’s sit for a minute.”

“No,” Doyoung pleaded with a pout. He swayed away from Johnny’s elbow and furrowed his brow. His eyes looked glossed over again and Johnny’s heart sank. “We’re drunk, Johnny.”

Johnny’s body had forgotten every bottle of beer and soju a moment ago, but now everything sloshed to the forefront of his mind. He _was_ drunk, and even if Johnny had full confidence in his body and mind, the look on Doyoung’s face had him re-thinking his bold proposition.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

“Let’s—let’s just—” Doyoung fumbled with the controller and punched a few buttons to restart the song from the beginning. He set it down gently and grabbed a mic off the table and began to sing. 

Defeated, Johnny plunked down into his seat and poured himself another shot of soju. This was supposed to be Johnny’s song that Doyoung picked out just for him, but Johnny didn’t deserve to take the moment to forget what happened—instead, he got to soak in his mild embarrassment and reflect on how to move forward from this weird situation he’s put them both in now. 

Doyoung’s voice wobbled at the start, and his hand holding the mic shook as he pinched his eyes closed to focus on a deep breath between a verse and the chorus. After he worked through a few strained notes, his voice eventually melted into every note, and Johnny swayed to the music as he watched the jovial, confident Doyoung unfold again.

The rest of the evening was fun—though, to Johnny, the energy plunged into sterility compared to other times at the noraebang together, even after screaming through three IU songs in a row. 

When they left, it was strange to feel the summer night frost over. Doyoung wrapped his arms across his chest in his oversized denim jacket the entire walk to the metro station. They walked side by side in silence, and every few steps Johnny would peer out of the corner of his eye to see Doyoung watch over each step he propelled forward.

“Good night,” Doyoung said when they arrived at the station. His voice sounded as soft as cotton. It was usually soothing, but tonight—and maybe it was the alcohol and hours of singing his heart out—but the fine scratch at the back of it made Johnny’s heart pang behind his ribs. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Johnny acknowledged, heart stuttering in his chest as it folded in on itself. He didn’t want tomorrow to come. 

When they parted ways, Johnny felt his guilt and exhaustion start to swell on the last leg of his journey home.

—————————

Mornings in Seoul were typically pleasant.

But tomorrow had arrived, and the morning after Johnny drank about half his weight in beer and soju, he woke up with a wave of nausea and the aftermath of lightning striking his skull. The throb between his ears was unrelenting when he opened half an eye to peer at the tiny sliver of light that managed to crack through the curtains.

He cursed at it under his breath and tried to roll over, his body feeling still inebriated and about three seconds behind what his brain was willing it to do. His mouth felt like the Sahara and sandpaper. He’d wished he kept a glass of water by his bed last night, but instead, all he could reach for was his phone to check the time.

The screen nearly blinded him, an aura flashing before his eyes until he could squint them enough to make out the time: a few minutes to noon. Beneath that were three messages from Doyoung.

**Doyoung [08:03]** morning hyung

**Doyoung [08:03]** i know you’re not awake yet but message me when you’re up.

**Doyoung [10:54]** we need to talk about last night. i’ll be at the coffee shop for a couple hours.

“Shit,” Johnny mumbled under his breath. He felt the dregs of his hangover melt away after reading the texts. Half-awake, he shot upright in bed too quickly and swayed, his brain still feeling as if it were working ten times faster than the rest of his body would allow. He paused to rub the sleep from his eyes, let out a long, sour burp that both tasted and smelled like last night’s poor decisions, and took a second to not give into his gag reflex. Instead, he focused his attention back on his phone screen.

**Johnny [11:56]** hi

**Johnny [11:56]** i’m coming

**Johnny [11:57]** 30 min ok??

He threw his phone onto his bed and scurried out from the covers on sea legs to step into his bathroom to clean up after himself. He plowed through the usual morning-after-too-much-alcohol brain fog with a quick shower and threw on clothes plucked from the drying rack in the middle of his room. He didn’t bother drying his hair—it was already a quarter past noon, and it was at least a 20-minute walk to the coffee shop from his flat. He sent one last text to Doyoung to let him know he was on his way and scurried out of the apartment.

**Johnny [12:16]** leaving now

Johnny stopped in front of his door as he slipped his shoes on and watched the three dots putter across the screen as he waited for Doyoung’s reply.

**Doyoung [12:16]** see you soon.

“Shit,” Johnny mumbled under his breath. He still couldn’t get a full read on Doyoung with that one reply, but the bluntness in all of his messages this morning made Johnny’s palms itch.

He pocketed his phone and walked briskly to their usual coffee shop. 

The soupy summertime air swallowed him whole less than a minute into his walk. It was unfairly humid, and Johnny’s shirt started to stick to his back after he churned his way past the first block. He lost his footing a couple of times trying to skirt around a few people that strolled too slowly on the sidewalks—and maybe because last night’s soju guided him forward. 

As the sun beat down as he waited to cross the final street on the corner across from the shop, Johnny tried to not think about the beads of sweat that started to gather on the back of his neck. Even though he made a valiant effort to scrub his tongue far enough back without gagging and up-chucking whatever remained (or hadn’t) in his stomach, he was pretty sure he still smelled like an open bar.

Johnny elongated his strides as he inched closer to the door of the coffee shop, then threw open the door with such little grace that a barista and two patrons in line craned their necks to glare at him. He could barely hear the soft jazz playing in the speakers from the little boombox on the counter over his heart beating in his ears as he tried to calm his breaths. He kept his head held high with a straight face as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and scanned the tables for Doyoung.

He found him perched in a corner by the window, jet-black hair scraped back into a low ponytail underneath a backward baseball cap as he sat with his elbows on the table scrolling through his phone. Johnny watched him, enthralled by whatever was on his phone screen, as he couldn’t peel them away as he blindly sought out the straw for his iced coffee with the tip of his tongue. Johnny couldn’t help himself from cracking a smile as he watched Doyoung struggle a few times before he finally wrapped the straw around his lips and took a long sip.

“Doyoung,” Johnny said, feet still planted by the front door. He stumbled to his left to move out of the way for a customer leaving the shop.

Doyoung whipped his head up as he searched for Johnny’s voice, then gave a small wave when he spotted Johnny at the door. Johnny felt the pit of anxiety melt away a bit now that he could see Doyoung wasn’t visibly mad at him.

“Want anything?” Johnny pointed at the counter.

Doyoung declined with a shake of his head, and he turned his phone face down onto the table.

Johnny went up to the counter and placed in his order, then took it to the table with a slice of strawberry crepe cake for them to share. Cake wasn’t the best breakfast idea, but Johnny knew Doyoung had been up longer than him and was usually up for a bit of a sweet treat.

“Hey.” Johnny heard his voice crack as he handed a spoon and a napkin to Doyoung. He cleared his throat as he smoothed down the front of his shirt.

“Hi.” Doyoung moved the jug of water on the table and took the spoon. The tips of his fingers brushed against Johnny’s, and they felt warmed by the sunlight that beamed through the window. and placed it onto the table next to his coffee. “How are you, hyung?”

“I feel like shit,” Johnny admitted. He took a long sip of his iced Americano and nearly gagged.

“Well, you look like shit,” Doyoung countered.

“Ugh,” Johnny groaned. “No I don’t.”

“Okay—you look _respectable_ for someone drunk in the middle of the day.” Doyoung picked up his drink to take a sip from his straw. 

Once upon a time, Johnny would have been surprised to hear Doyoung sass him like that, but Johnny only snorted in mock offense. Mostly, he was flattered to see _he_ had started to rub off on Doyoung.

“Oh god, I’m really still kind of drunk,” Johnny said as he swayed in his seat. It was like he forgot until he was reminded, and suddenly one whiff of his strawberry crepe cake made his guts rumble. “But like, I’m at the _end_ of drunk when it’s not fun anymore. The hangover is starting to kick in.”

“Drink some water, hyung.” Doyoung pushed forward an empty glass and the jug.

“Please, eat this,” Johnny pointed to the cake. His nose curled at the smell of the overripened strawberries placed on the top of the slice. “I think I changed my mind.”

Doyoung glanced at the cake and pulled it closer to him. “You should have got something savory.” He picked up his spoon and dug into the corner of the slice.

“God, why didn’t I get something savory?” Johnny tipped the jug against the lip of the glass and watched it splash against the bottom and spill over onto the tabletop. “Oof.”

“Because your brain’s all shriveled up,” Doyoung said. He slid his napkin forward to sop up the mess. Johnny looked up to watch him quietly chew around the rest of his bite, small lips staying closed as his jaw worked around it. 

Johnny leaned forward with a squint. “You’re saying my brain’s a raisin?”

Doyoung raised an eyebrow and lifted his eyes from the cake over to Johnny with a new mouthful of cake pressed against his lips. “Of course it’s like a raisin. You drank your weight in soju last night.”

“Well, I’m _seriously_ never going to do that again,” Johnny said. “Please don’t let me drink that much again.”

There was a pause between Doyoung’s next bite, and Johnny sipped on his glass of water as he pondered getting up for a greasy sausage pastry. He felt his knee start to bounce, and he moved it outward so as to not knock up against the bottom of the table. The chairs always made him feel so god damn large, but he endured it after Doyoung had proven their coffee and treats were always worth it.

Doyoung was right. And throughout the summer, Johnny logged in the back of his mind that Doyoung was usually right about most things.

Doyoung’s spoon clattered against the plate as he sat up straight in his chair and turned to look out the window, his profile sheathed in the yellow glow of the summer sunlight. At this angle, his cheekbones looked sharper, yet still soft and rounded.

“Let’s stop avoiding the obvious,” Doyoung said, gaze still focused out the window. He squared his shoulders and turned to look directly at Johnny. His stare was sharp, focused, the look Johnny expected Doyoung to have when he first sat down at the table.

Johnny felt his stomach plunge through his seat as a whole new layer of dread washed over his battle with a queasy stomach. “Do you mean—”

“Did you really ask me to marry you last night?” Doyoung asked. His brows were pinched as he folded his arms across his chest. There was a rosy glow painted on the apple of his cheeks.

The question instantly felt like it sobered Johnny up, and the subtle notes of soft jazz that scored the shop were muted by this extremely loud question Doyoung had thrown at him.

“I—I. I definitely did, didn’t I,” Johnny stuttered. 

Doyoung let out a long huff. “What was that all about?”

He meant it—Johnny was 100% dead serious in asking Doyoung for his hand in marriage, but now that he had to explain himself, he had to figure out the best way to provide all the evidence to explain how their arrangement would benefit the both of them in the long run.

“Hear me out,” Johnny started. He swallowed down a hard lump in his throat.

Doyoung pulled his arms tighter across his chest as he blinked a few times. He nodded for Johnny to continue.

“I—I just want to start off by saying my proposal is in no way a joke, but an offer.” Johnny reached for his coffee on the table. _An offer was good, right?_ he thought. _Offers didn’t always have to be accepted._

“First,” Johnny said as he took a small sip of his Americano, “I want to preface everything I say that in the short time we’ve known each other, I’d say we’ve become good friends.” 

Doyoung cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. The look on his face remained blank as he paused to absorb everything Johnny had said so far. “Yeah. I’d say so, too.” 

“When my mom asked me to go out and see your mom and you for lunch, I didn’t expect this,” Johnny gestured between them, “to come so easily between us. You know? It feels like we’ve known each other for longer than two months.” 

Johnny laughed thinking back on that day, when Doyoung walked into the restaurant behind his mother with a forced smile painted across his face, he didn’t expect for them to get on so well. He thought Doyung was far younger and not so close to his age, and when his mother pushed for them to get to know each other more, Johnny felt like he’d known Doyoung for years after they were honest with each other.

“And in that time, I’ve found out you’re intelligent—” Johnny felt his brain start to melt as his words started to tumble out of his mouth. “—like, just way more emotionally intelligent and compassionate than anyone I’ve met before.”

Doyoung’s arms slipped free and onto his lap as he tilted his head to the side. The tension on his forehead appeared to ease as he slumped back into his chair.

Johnny pressed onward, silently pleased with himself to see his words start to put Doyoung at ease. “And—and you’re thoughtful—and considerate. And you have a kind heart.”

Doyoung’s eyes cast downward and he snatched his coffee off the table to take a long sip. Johnny gave him a moment and waited to see if Doyoung had anything to say, but instead, Doyoung looked out the window briefly before setting his coffee back down on the table and reached for his spoon off the plate for more cake.

“I think we’d get along fine as roommates,” Johnny said as he watched Doyoung shovel another modest mouthful of strawberry cream. Johnny felt his breathing start to pick up. It felt tight, like a little vise clamped down on his windpipe. “You’d really like Chicago. It’s flat, so you wouldn’t have to worry about hiking up any hills. _And_ there’s an awesome landscape architecture master’s program in Illinois.”

Doyoung threw his head up and froze mid-bite. “I think I read about that one,” he said, his voice hushed.

Johny felt the vise loosen and his jitters were replaced with a little, swollen balloon of pride. He can’t remember exactly what possessed him into looking up landscape architecture programs the night after Doyoung revealed it’s what he wanted to pursue, but he was grateful now to have this information stored in his back pocket.

“Marrying me would eliminate the headache of needing a student visa when you apply to a graduate studies program,” Johnny offered as he wiggled his eyebrows. “And if you do decide on going to a state school, you wouldn’t have to pay international student fees.” 

Doyoung looked half-convinced, so Johnny laid out all the rest of his ammunition on the table: “I’m a lawyer—with a law degree from _Princeton_. With my connections, getting through all that paperwork would make immigration a breeze for you.”

Doyoung steepled his fingers and pressed his elbows onto the table. Johnny still couldn’t get a full read on Doyoung, so he decided to pull out the final detail for his earnest offer.

“Also.” Johnny paused to lick his lips. “I think your mom _really_ likes me.”

Doyoung snorted and threw his head back. “God.”

“But I’m right!”

“Of course you’re right,” Doyoung laughed. “She won’t shut up about you.”

“I’m irresistible!”

“Shut up,” Doyoung hiccuped another laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Come on—you have to admit it’s a good idea.” Johnny shrugged his shoulders and hoped to see Doyoung nod in agreement, but instead was met with Doyoung’s face in his hands.

“It’s good,” Doyoung mumbled, “but it’s _too good_ to be true.”

Johnny took another sip of his coffee—it was nearly gone. He wished he had sipped it slower. “How so?”

“Well—” Doyoung paused with a hand over his mouth. He searched for his words as his eyes dimmed to a squint. “First of all, you’re…you’re gay.”

“...And you’re a man.” Johnny cocked his head to the side—of course, he had his fair share of hookups and dates while he was in undergrad and law school, but he couldn’t fully grasp why Doyoung was so fixated on his sexuality. “I shouldn’t make assumptions,” Johnny started, “but is marrying a man something that makes you uncomfortable?”

Doyoung looked flustered. The apples of his cheeks had stained a lovely shade of soft pink, like ripe white peaches. “No,” he said, shaking his head as his hands fell onto the table. “It doesn’t.” 

Johnny looked down to see Doyoung circling his thumbs around each other. He looked down on the top of their small table to swipe at the ring of condensation that gathered at the bottom of this iced cup, and the smooth jazz had transitioned into 80s soft rock.

“I—I’m attracted to men, too,” Doyoung confirmed.

Johnny was blindsided by the realization, mostly because he hadn’t given much thought to Doyoung’s orientation. It’s not like he _needed_ to know prior to this, but he didn’t know what to expect, either.

Johnny ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I guess I should state being in love with me is _not_ required to accept my offer.”

Doyoung clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “You’d be so _lucky_.”

“Hey now,” Johnny chirped with a straight face, “if your mom was single, she’d marry me in a heartbeat.” He lasted a full five seconds before his resolve failed to stifle a giggle as Doyoung shook his head.

“Unbelievable,” Doyoung muttered. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

“From what?”

Doyoung let out another long sigh and fiddled with the cap on his head. “I just keep thinking…”

“You’re thinking an awful lot,” Johnny reached across the table to rest his palm on the back of Doyoung’s hand. “And that’s okay. This is a big decision. You can take all the time you need.” Doyoung slipped his hand away and set it back into this lap. Johnny had meant for it to be a comforting gesture, but now it made Doyoung a bit skittish.

“I’m not thinking about me,” Doyoung clarified. He couldn’t look Johnny directly in the eyes. “It’s—I’m confused because you’re not only gay, but you live in _America_. You can date whoever the hell you want.”

Being gay in America, legally, was better than _most_ parts of the world. There were other countries with far better government policies supporting their LGBTQ communities, but being gay anywhere for Johnny was about the same: it wasn’t exactly a secret, and it wasn’t exactly known, except by only those he could trust.

Johnny let out a long sigh. “I hate to tell you that bigots exist everywhere.”

“I’m not even thinking about that, Johnny.” Doyoung shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense why you’d marry me when you could wait and marry...someone else?”

Johnny let out a sigh. Doyoung had a valid point—but the thought of settling for something simple, of helping out a friend and not having to think about having to both explain to his parents he is, in fact, very much not straight, and leaving all the other subtle expectations put upon him as he finally settled into making his own career path was much easier than, well, the complete opposite.

Johnny sat up straighter in his seat and cleared his throat. “My parents don’t exactly know I’m gay,” Johnny said. 

In spite of them bearing the most honest parts of themselves since the day Doyoung told Johnny he was not the person he met at the Italian restaurant, but instead was actually a man who also wasn’t out to his parents, Johnny felt a tinge of guilt he hadn’t been entirely forthcoming about the reality of _his_ situation in return.

“Oh.” Doyoung nodded and looked away to focus his eyes on his lap. He reached up to slip the hat off his head and readjust it a few times. “So,” Doyoung bit his lip, “you’ve asked me….to marry you…” He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, and Johnny started to feel a wave of nausea sweep over him again. He couldn’t tell what would come out of Doyoung’s mouth next. 

Doyoung swallowed hard and kept his eyes focused upward. “It’s because I look like a woman, isn’t it?”

Johnny felt his heart lurch in his chest. “Shit—Doyoung—”

Doyoung slowly tilted his chin down and fixed his face with a glare. “That’s it, right?”

The realization of the implications made Johnny’s heart snap in his chest. “I didn’t mean—”

“Even _if_ you didn’t mean it like that, it’s exactly what it looks like.” Doyoung’s eyes glittered under the filtered sun. The rims started to swell, pink and watery from trying to hold in a breath.

“Look—I’m so sorry—” Johnny felt his hands tremor at his sides as he watched Doyoung whip his head back down to stare at his lap. This was not what Johnny wanted—not what he _expected_ —and now he felt like the biggest asshole.

“I know you didn’t mean it, but,” Doyoung dabbed the back of his hand against the corners of his eyes. “I hate that it’s true.”

“Doyoung,” Johnny said firmly. “Please, look at me.” 

Doyoung blinked a few tears as he turned his attention to Johnny.

“You are Doyoung to me, always and forever.” Johnny placed his palms flat on the table and continued. “And how I see you now, and whoever you want to become, is how you will always be in my eyes. You are my _friend_ , and I know what I’m offering sounds crazy, but I’m thinking the big picture here: you come to America, you get to be yourself. Shame free.”

Johnny watched a fresh swell of tears fall down Doyoung’s face. Johnny felt a few of his own start to blur the edges of the sight before him—and the room around them had fallen quiet. 

“I just—” Johnny flipped his palms over and wiggled his fingers to coax Doyoung’s into his. He cocked his head to the side as he watched Doyoung contemplate what to do with his snot-covered hands. “What’s marriage more than, like, a contract, you know?”

“It is a contract,” Doyoung said. The crease on his forehead between his eyes remained deep. Johnny wondered if the cogs in his brain were churning in overdrive. “But what you’re proposing isn’t simple.”

“Nothing’s ever simple, Doyoung.” Johnny felt his posture start to wilt and straightened his back again. He bit his lip before he spoke. “I think that’s where you and I have some common ground.”

Doyoung slipped his hands over Johnny’s, his slender fingers warm and boney as Johnny wrapped his fingertips around his delicate wrists. Doyoung gave a small squeeze back as he looked up, lashes webbed with teardrops as a smile leaked out of the corner of his mouth. 

The silence lingered between for several beats as Johnny finally let his own tears slip, and the world around them came back into view for Johnny. This time, Johnny didn’t mind sitting in silence waiting for Doyoung to speak.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience—I'm super stoked to be revisiting this story. This chapter update has been partially drafted for a while and honestly, a few comments/conversations in the last week have really motivated me to dive back into this verse. I have a number of other one-shots I've been working on, but this particular WIP makes me feel warm every time I come back to it.
> 
> Notes for this chapter: I don't think there are any warnings to point out, but always do let me know in the comments if there are any tags I should add to the fic.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so please excuse any terrible typos.
> 
> Happy reading!

After spending a summer in Seoul, coming home felt strange.

Chicago after Labor Day was still warm. The last sticky bits of summer swelled and lingered over the Midwest. In some ways, the humidity reminded Johnny of Seoul, but in most other ways, Chicago was a world of difference to Seoul. 

All of Illinois was flat as far as the eye could see, and Lake Michigan looked more like an ocean crashing onto the shore. Johnny settled into his new apartment just outside of the city, a cozy one-bedroom where he spent most of his time hoveled up preparing for his bar exam. The pressures of keeping up his studies and applying for an entry-level position at his mother’s firm required Johnny to be up at odd hours, and the feeling was pitiful when it was for something as important as the bar exam and not six hours in a noraebang booth drunk out of his mind. 

To keep himself awake, he’d oftentimes be tempted for a late-night bite to eat and strolled up to the food truck a few blocks up the street to order Puerto Rican style empanadas. He admitted he missed walking up and down the endless rows of food stalls in Seoul to grab tteokbokki and fried cheese on a stick, even if his gut was ungrateful for his choices the morning after.

Other times he’d pop into the liquor store across the street for a can of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. The smoking was a habit he picked up from law school, one he thought was strictly social to help keep him up all night during his study sessions locked in the library. But when he finished school, he found himself still picking up Marlboro’s while in South Korea, first after going out to the bars and for late-night food, but eventually, it started to happen on his mornings hanging out over his window ledge as he curbed a hangover, or watched the sunrise.

Now, in Chicago, the habit slipped its way into his morning routine. Shortly after his feet hit the floor and relieving himself in the bathroom, he’d splash water on his face to sweep the sleep from his eyes, shuffle into the kitchen to brew his first cup of coffee for the day, then take it to squat onto the small stool on his patio to light up his first cigarette of the day. Then, when his limbs felt less feathered, he’d shuffle back into the apartment to pull a protein drink out of the fridge and crack open his study materials sprawled across the kitchen table to get studying.

He had his days all planned out, down to the hour: when to shovel down his lunch, an hour for him to run through the neighborhood and do ab circuits at the nearby park, and always rewarded himself at the end of the day with No Law Stuff after 7 o’clock. Unlike law school, Johnny made a promise to himself to _not_ fuck up his sleep schedule in this special interim before starting at the firm.

A few weeks after settling into his new living quarters and slogging his way through the jet lag, Johnny set up the first monthly virtual Pie and Burger Hang with his closest friends from law school: Taeil, Yuta, and Taeyong.

“You got a _WHAT?!_ ” Yuta screamed through the tinny speakers. His voice echoed off the floors of Johnny’s apartment as he cracked open a can of beer. The beer fizzed and spilled over the lip of the can and Johnny rushed to bring it to his lips before it spilled all over his lap.

“A dog,” Taeyong repeated just as Johnny flicked his eyes back to his computer screen. Taeyong leaned off-screen for a beat and popped back up with a Yorkshire terrier in his lap. “Her name’s Cream Puff, and she’s already made three friends in the neighborhood on our walks.” His voice turned sweet as sugar as he waved her paw at the camera. “Say hi, Cream Puff!” 

Johnny waved his hand, even if the dog didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on. “Hi, Cream Puff.”

Cream Puff let out a small bark and turned her head to luck at Taeyong’s chin, and Johnny couldn’t help but laugh. He really couldn’t believe Taeyong already got a dog—but of all of them, it made the most sense.

“She’s cute,” Taeil said, voice deadpan as he noisily unwrapped his burger. “I wish I got a cat.”

“Why _don’t_ you get a cat?” Yuta asked.

“I’m never fucking home,” Taeil said as he took a bite. Johnny watched a glob of ketchup and mayonnaise drip down the side of his hand, but Taeil paid no mind and kept on talking around his food. “Why have a pet if you don’t have time to enjoy them?”

Taeil was a year ahead of the rest of them. They didn’t meet each other through an event or passing on campus, but rather at a dive bar around the corner from Taeyong’s condo rental singing karaoke. Both Yuta and Taeyong were in Johnny’s cohort, and Johnny picked up his smoking habit with Yuta through many all-nighters in the law school library.

Yuta took a pull from the neck of his beer. “You’re home right now.” 

“Okay, smartass—I _am_ home, but as soon as this call is over I have about three hundred pages of reading I need to get done before I pass the fuck out. Whichever comes first.”

“But you could still very much get a cat.”

Taeil shook his head. “And to spend my precious time away from catching up on cases cleaning out a litter box?”

“I really like going on walks with Cream Puff,” Taeyong chimed in. Cream Puff jumped off his lap, onto the floor and scurried away. “It’s a nice stress relief.”

“Pfft,” Johnny scoffed. “It takes, like, minutes to clean a litter box, Taeil.”

“Minutes away from my beauty rest.” Taeil shoveled a small grip of fries into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of his Coke. 

“Think of all the kitties in the shelter that could be home with you right now.” Yuta shook his head and took a bite out of his burger. “You’re a Scrooge, Moon.”

“Don’t guilt me!”

Yuta shook his burger in front of the camera, lettuce and veganaisse slipping out of the bun. “Only you can do that to yourself.”

“God, I don’t think you realize how lucky you are to be eating In-N-Out right now,” Taeyong said then wrapped his lips around a straw.

“Oh, this isn’t In-N-Out.” Yuta raised the burger closer to his camera until the white wrapper blurred out of focus. “It’s a plant-based burger.”

“Plant-based?” Johnny said and dropped his fry into a puddle of ketchup. 

Taeyong gawked. “What?” Cream Puff’s tiny whoop echoed in the background.

“Plant-based my ass, what kind of crap is that?” Taeil rolled his eyes. “Just call it vegan. God, is it even considered a burger?”

“Of course it’s a burger!” Yuta yelped and took a big bite. “And it’s so fucking good. You’re just gonna have to come visit me and take my word for it.”

“I’ll just take your word for it,” Taeil said.

“Fuck off, Moon!”

Johnny swiped a fry through his ketchup and popped it into his mouth. “Yuta: aren’t you scared of vegetables?”

Johnny saw Taeil click his tongue and shake his head. “It’s our first burger time, and you’re already bending the fucking rules, man.”

Cream Puff barked again, this time louder and much closer to Taeyong’s microphone—where ever that was. “Hold on—” Taeyong groaned and put his screen on mute and turned to look down at his dog off-screen.

Johnny’s eyes scanned the screen to look at Yuta, despite the fact it was a virtual video call; it’s not like Yuta would know who he had his attention on at this point in the conversation.

“I can’t believe you moved to LA and _this_ happened to you,” Johnny said. “Yuta Nakamoto, Ironman triathlete and known carnivore is going vegan.”

“You say that like it’s an affliction!” Yuta took another bite. “This shit is so good, you gotta try it when you come visit me.”

“I can’t trust that,” Johnny said. “I still can’t believe _you_ , of all people.”

“Well, you all _are_ studying for the bar,” Taeil said. “Prepping for the bar makes you do some crazy shit.”

Yuta scoffed. “Pfft, as if my _plant-based_ burger is me going off the rails! I’m not the one who adopted a dog.”

Taeyong poked his head back into view on the screen and unmuted his mic. “Cream Puff is my _best friend_ right now!”

Johnny pouted. "I thought I was your best friend, Yongie."

“Ah, I got through the bar just fine without doing anything extreme,” Taeil said smugly and shoveled more fries into his mouth.

“Except you _do_ smoke more than a chimney now.” Johnny pointed and took a long swig from his beer. It had started to get warm quickly, so he got up to grab a glass from the kitchen.

“Technically anyone who smokes does smoke more than a chimney now.” Taeil raised his Coke can and cocked an eyebrow. “You can thank the EPA for that.”

The banter made Johnny feel warm; it’d been months since they got to catch up with each other and it felt like hardly any time passed between them.

“Well, since we’re all just going off the rails,” Yuta cut in. “How’s our Johnny doing? Do you have a secret tattoo on your ass you’re dying to show us or something?”

Johnny sauntered back to the table and poured the rest of his beer into the pint glass. It foamed up to the lip and settled down into the ice, and he set the drink off to the left, far enough away from his laptop lest it tipped over.

“Yeah, how was Seoul?” Taeyong asked.

“Good, good.” Johnny nodded and felt his hands start to tremble as he recounted his summer. He hadn’t really told them about Doyoung, though they must have _seen_ Doyoung plenty on his social media. “No secret tattoo though.”

“I’m so jealous, dude,” Yuta said. “Would've loved to go see my cousin in Japan—I’ve been dreaming of a brain bath since I left undergrad.”

“It was nice, visiting some family and stuff.”

“Nice,” Taeyong hummed.

Johnny brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, and his knee started to bounce under the tabletop. “Yeah, and I kinda got engaged?”

Everything froze—dead silence, except the echo of an ambulance that roared in the background of someone’s video feed, then it fizzled into the loud roar of all the blood in Johnny’s body rushing to his ears. He hadn’t told anyone about it just yet, as it was still something he and Doyoung loosely talked about, and the _real_ engagement—the one in front of Doyoung’s parents and all that—still hadn’t happened yet. 

It was far too easy to let his announcement fall from his mouth, but what he didn’t account for was how much _more nervous_ he’d feel immediately afterward.

“You got _what?!_ ” Yuta squeaked. Johnny was startled; he never knew such a sound could come out of Yuta.

“Oh my god.” Taeyong covered his mouth with a hand and stared awestruck at his camera.

Taeil barked out a laugh and clapped his hands together. “What the hell, man—that’s _wild_.”

“Yeah,” Johnny shrugged. “It’s not, like, official _official_.”

“What do you mean it’s not _official official_?” Yuta asked, vegan monstrosity dangling from his hand.

“Well, I didn’t have a ring or anything—”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Yuta interrupted. “Who is it?”

“H—his name is Doyoung—”

“How’d you meet him?” Yuta pressed. His tone was firm, short, but Johnny didn’t feel bothered by it. Whenever Yuta wanted to get to the bottom of things, he usually morphed into Twenty Questions Mode.

Johnny gave them a supremely condensed version of how he and Doyoung’s mother go way back, and how the rest of his summer unfolded—with Doyoung threading himself throughout most of it.

“Let me get this straight,” Yuta started. “So, you met this guy through your mother’s best friend, found out his family is pressuring him to get married, and just—asked for his hand in marriage?”

Johnny picked up the beer and took a long pull only to buy him more time before giving an answer. He hummed, let the floral tendrils of his IPA float on the back of his tongue. “Basically.”

“That’s...pretty intense,” Taeil said.

Johnny drained the last of his beer and let out a long sigh. “It’s convenient.”

“What about finding ‘ _the one_ ’?” Yuta asked.

Johnny let out a nervous laugh. “People change, Yuta.”

He had always been the one out of all of them who talked about how much he _loved_ being in love, had a couple of serious relationships during undergrad and one through law school, and even told Yuta how much he couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate to settle down and start a family. 

“Well, I think it’s really exciting, Johnny,” Taeyong said just as Cream Puff started barking. He leaned down to pick her up from the floor. Johnny always loved how gentle and supportive Taeyong was. “Yes, Uncle Johnny’s getting married.”

Johnny smiled and mumbled a thanks. “It’s not set in stone yet—I just pitched the idea to him and he's open to it. Our parents don’t know yet.”

“Your parents don’t know?” Taeyong cocked his head to the side, and Johnny felt his stomach plunge. “Oh, Johnny.”

Taeil interrupted the brief silence as he let out a loud yawn through a stretch, then settled sprawled out in his office chair with his hands clasped behind his neck.

Yuta clicked his tongue and set his burger down. “I’m just surprised,” he said, expression soft and thinking. Johnny could see the leaves of Yuta’s monstera plant bounce around the breeze that rolled through his window. “Our Johnny, the hopeless romantic, proposed to a stranger. This was the _last_ thing I expected to hear today.”

Yuta’s tone wasn’t laced with disdain, but Johnny still felt a stone buried in his chest. If he hadn’t known Yuta as well as he did, he would have felt the need to get on the defensive—but Yuta’s reaction made sense; Doyoung was a stranger to him. On the other hand, Doyoung _wasn’t_ entirely a stranger to Johnny, but it made him realize there was still a lot they needed to learn about each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and/or comments! Yell at me on Twitter or curious cat!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/johntographique) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/violetpeche)
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> Read the original Twitter thread here: [x](https://twitter.com/johntographique/status/1241650293772709888)


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